


Peace

by aminiatureworld



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, idk man, kinda melancholy but fluffy, more platonic, requested on tumblr, was in a mood writing this one just rewatched one of the worst movies in existence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminiatureworld/pseuds/aminiatureworld
Summary: Peacetime in Middle Earth brings happiness and hope. It also brings reflection, on the past and on the future
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 16





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> The shortest fic I’ve ever written! I think I burnt myself out a bit with the last one, but I felt so bad about how long this one took to write. I hope the quality is as good as my longer works. I really don’t have much to say about this one except I hope you all enjoy and sorry it came out bizarrely melancholic at points. 
> 
> Thanks for my last fic in the endnote

Peacetime, something that Aragorn wasn’t really sure he’d ever experience. And yet, how kind fate had been, to himself, to those he loved, his family, his band of brothers. Spring had come, the end of Sauron’s reign, though not far enough for all scars to heal, was well entrenched in the past, and there was left nothing in the world but a sense of great happiness. Well, perhaps not entirely, but that’s how Aragorn imagined it on that fine day, resting under a great big oak tree, one such brother lounging in his lap.

“Really Legolas, you’ve become slovenly over the course of a winter. Whatever happened to the elf that could take down orcs and was never resting, always ready to move forward.”

“He became drunk on peace and died a perfectly contented slob.” Legolas replied, smirking. “And you, dear friend, you’ve become quite the domestic. Just what are you doing to my hair?”

“Practicing.” Aragorn said, a bit absentmindedly. “I always did wonder how you elves managed such elaborate styles. Besides,” he combed through a strand of the elf’s hair which would soon be covered in daisies, “I’d much rather wield a comb than a sword, don’t you agree.”

“I do.” The elf smiled softly. “We all ought to have been destined for this from the start, a pity that wasn’t meant to be. A pity too those who fell for these precious moments.” Taking a dandelion amidst Aragorn’s stash, Legolas began to spin the flower absentmindedly, and for a moment Aragorn was carried away with the mood, landing himself in an odd mix of calm and melancholy. He too missed the gruff man who’d been the final pillar of the Fellowship.

“Boromir would’ve had little use for flowers I think. Though I dearly wish he’d been allowed to try for a bit of peace. He deserved it as much as the rest of us.”

“Agreed.” Legolas nodded, mussing his new braids, something which had Aragorn giving a huff of feigned exasperation, though of course Legolas new there was nothing behind the action. “Boromir was a man of great honor in the end, he would’ve enjoyed a chance to show that honor off, perhaps he would now be a great hero of legend, saving drunkards from a particularly dangerous river.”

“I think that description of him would quite offend.” Aragorn laughed softly, and Legolas joined in that laughter. For a moment there was no more talking, just the methodical pulling of hairs strands and plucking of petals. The day was a glorious soft sort of one, almost as if nature had blessed Rivendell with an eternal sort of peace that reflected the mood of those who inhabited it. Such weather was surely of great relief to the elves inside its abode, for after the loss of power from those three rings which had been keeping the place so fine, it was certainly of great comfort to know the sun wouldn’t suddenly fall form the sky.

“When do you head off to become king?” Legolas’ voice broke Aragorn out of his pensiveness, and he focused once more on the head in his lap.

“Summertime. I’d like to have a last season of peace. And you with your plans, where will you go now?”

“I’m not sure. West in all likelihood, but not for a long while. I want to watch your kingdom grow, want to stay by those surviving members of the Fellowship as long as I might. Would it be too great a burden for you to have an old elf slinking around the palace halls.”

“Certainly not!” Aragorn chuckled. “I’d rather be happy for that old elf, perhaps he’d be able to give me some advice so I don’t immediately fail.”

“You won’t.” Legolas’ face was all seriousness and care. “You’ll be a great king Aragorn. Never forget or doubt such a thing. And your greatness will come from naught but yourself. You must remember, as spring has brought happiness and peace here, so have you brought both those things to Middle Earth. You and the rest of the Fellowship, we’re bound together by experience and sentiment. So as long as I’m here to lurk in the halls of your palace, so too shall I be here to remind you of that very thing.”

Aragorn said nothing, too moved for words; he merely pressed Legolas’ hand gratefully. Truly there was no better place to be in peacetime, no better friend and comrade to share it with. Aragorn hadn’t expected peace, hadn’t expected his life to have any sort of fulfillment. And yet, when it had presented itself to him, Aragorn had never been more grateful for such a thing. It was something he’d be sure to cherish, until the end of his days.

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest thanks to the 667 people who read my last LotR fanfiction, with special regards to the 45 who gave it kudos, the 1 who bookmarked it, and the six who commented on it. Really I feel undeserving of such lovely regard given to my writing. I hope you liked this one too and that you continue to enjoy what I post.


End file.
